


Practical Considerations

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Best Friends, First Kiss, Friendship to Love, Friendship/Love, M/M, Underage Drinking, University of Michigan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Friendship to Love College AU:  Dean stands in the lobby of the apartment building sifting through his ring of keys until he finds the small one that opens the mailbox.  He hikes the strap of his messenger bag higher on his shoulder as he reaches into the box to retrieve the contents.  There, right on top of the glossy advertising flyers and a couple of bills, sits a thick envelope bowed to fit into the narrow box.  Sliding it out, Dean sees the word “Duke” in a bold font atop the return address. He shoves the mail away like it’s hissed at him, then carefully closes and re-locks the box.</p>
<p> So Cas got into Duke.  Of course he did.  And Dean’s proud of him.  Really, he is. Cas worked his ass off and they’ll be lucky to have him.  But Dean draws the line at literally handing Cas his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practical Considerations

Dean stands in the lobby of the apartment building sifting through his ring of keys until he finds the small one that opens the mailbox.  He hikes the strap of his messenger bag higher on his shoulder as he reaches into the box to retrieve the contents.  There, right on top of the glossy advertising flyers and a couple of bills, sits a thick envelope bowed to fit into the narrow box.  Sliding it out, Dean sees the word “Duke” in a bold font atop the return address. He shoves the mail away like it’s hissed at him, then carefully closes and re-locks the box.

 

So Cas got into Duke.  Of course he did.  And Dean’s proud of him.  Really, he is. Cas worked his ass off and they’ll be lucky to have him.  But Dean draws the line at literally handing Cas his future. 

 

Dean turns around and walks out of the lobby and back in to the street.  It’s what passes for a spring day in Ann Arbor: cold, damp, and with a chance of flurries. Oblivious to the chill, he walks a few blocks to the neighborhood grocery store.  Inside, he tosses his bag into the cart and wanders aimlessly up and down each aisle, looking at everything and seeing nothing.

 

 After twenty minutes of this, he gathers the strands of his frayed focus and stands in front of the meat counter.  Something celebratory, he decides.  He chooses a couple of little steaks, then circles back to the produce section for the red potatoes Cas likes.  In the baking aisle, he throws a box of brownie mix into the cart.  He sighs and follows that with bag of chocolate chips and another of M&Ms since Cas complains that plain brownies need more chocolate.

 

By the time he gets home, Cas is closed in his room. The pile of mail minus the acceptance packet is neatly stacked on the coffee table.  Dean turns the oven on for the brownies, following the instructions for the mix while it heats.  He stirs in generous helpings of chocolate chips and M&Ms before sliding the pan in to bake.  He washes the potatoes and fills a pot with water to boil, before seasoning the steaks with just a little bit of salt and pepper.   By the time he gets out the cast iron skillet to pan-fry them, there’s still no sign of Cas, but that’s not so unusual.  The guy puts in more hours than he should on his classwork, but look at how it’s paid off for him.

 

Finally Dean knocks on his door. He opens it to see Cas sitting at the desk, his laptop in sleep mode in front of him.  “Dinner in fifteen,” he says and Cas blinks at him slowly before nodding. 

 

When Cas comes out to the kitchen, he catches sight of the pan of brownies cooling on a rack.  “What’s that for?” he asks, his face wary.

 

“They were on sale,” Dean says simply as he sets the potatoes on the table.

**** 

 Dean and Cas lived at opposite ends of the same hall in Markley freshman year but their paths rarely crossed because Cas’s interests included staying in on the weekends, asking people to turn down their music, and actually studying. Dean, on the other hand, majored in accepting every party invitation that came his way. 

 

That changed on a Saturday night in mid-October when Cas walked into the communal bathroom to find Dean lying on the floor, half in one of the stalls. 

 

When Dean made no attempt to get up, Cas approached him and crouched down.  With no preamble, he asked, “Is this fun for you?”

 

Dean, recently separated from the contents of his stomach, lifted his head off the cool concrete floor.  “You wouldn’t know fun if it bit you on the ass,” he slurred.

 

Cas stood and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t involve putting my face where forty guys take a shit.”

 

“Okay, that’s disgusting,” Dean said, struggling to sit up.  His head whirled from the quick change in position and he took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the spinning to subside.

 

Cas took pity on him then, walking around behind him and bending down to haul him up under his armpits. 

 

“Is your room open?” he asked, steering Dean to the line of sinks.  “You could probably use a toothbrush.” 

 

When Dean nodded, Cas disappeared out of the bathroom. Dean leaned heavily against a sink and looked at himself in the mirror.  Under the harsh fluorescent lights, he looked pale and sickly. His eyes were bloodshot and an imprint of concrete textured one side of his face.  By the time Cas returned, Dean had managed to smooth his hair and wash up a little. 

 

Cas had his toothbrush, toothpaste, a bottle of Tylenol, and the plastic Michigan tumbler Sam had bought him when he’d gotten his acceptance letter.  Under Cas’s watchful eye, Dean brushed his teeth, and took two aspirin, followed by a full glass of water.  When he was finished, Cas walked him back to his room.  Dean flung himself face down on the bed and was asleep before he could even say thank you.

 

The next morning Dean woke with a dry mouth and a thrumming headache.  He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes with both hands.  When he opened them against the daylight, he saw that Cas had brought his things back from the bathroom and lined them neatly up on his dresser.

Later that morning, Dean walked down the hall to knock on Cas’s door.  When there was no answer, he grabbed his biology textbook from his room and settled himself on the floor outside Cas’s door to wait.

 

It was nearly an hour later when Cas’s voice startled him out of his reading.  “Somebody really needs to teach you about furniture.” 

 

Dean scrambled to his feet, feeling suddenly shy. “I think I neglected to say thank you last night.” 

 

Cas smiled as he unlocked his door and motioned for Dean to come in.

 

As the next few weeks turned into months, they got to know each other and by the time winter break rolled around they were fast friends.  Dean learned that Cas was content just to be out from under his overbearing parents, and Cas listened when Dean talked about how hard it was to be away from Sammy. Dean helped Cas find the words to stand up to his parents when they threatened to make him come home and attend community college, and Cas was there the night Dean got drunk, fought back tears, and confessed his fear of turning into his father.

 

With Sam as his primary focus for so long, Dean had never had a best friend before.    So maybe that’s all this was.  Maybe the way Cas made him feel special was exactly what best friends did. Maybe that explained the way he looked forward to seeing Cas each day, and the sense of peace he felt when they were together.

 

So, it just made sense that they’d room together sophomore year.  After that, they found a little two-bedroom apartment on the edge of campus.  

**** 

It was winter break of their junior year when Dean realized maybe was more to the story. He traveled to Lawrence looking forward to some much-needed time away from classes and homework. But his enthusiasm dampened when Sam, fully immersed in a know-it-all teenage phase, argued with him day and night. He’d been prepared for the inevitable clashes with his father, but not for butting heads with his little brother, too.

 

Three days into the visit, Dean closed himself up in his childhood bedroom and flopped onto the bed.  Antsy and unhappy, he pulled out his cell phone to check the time.  If he were back at school, Cas would be waiting for him outside of Angell Hall so they could walk back to their apartment together, just like they did every Tuesday and Thursday.  But Cas was in Illinois having Christmas with the Novaks.

 

 They'd gotten into a nice routine, he mused.  Once he'd gotten that wild start out of his system freshman year, Dean found he didn't miss the party scene.  Dean dragged Cas to concerts and Cas dragged Dean to lectures, but more often than not they were happy to stay home.

 

Dean hadn’t talked to Cas since winter break started. Maybe he should call him. Just check in and say—what? _I miss you?_   Dean rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness.   He was getting ready to put his phone back in his pocket when it rang.  Cas’s name lit up the screen.

 

“Is it January yet?” Cas said by way of hello.

 

“I hear ya,” Dean responded.

 

“My parents gave me a curfew. An actual curfew.”

 

“It’s not like you stay out late anyhow,” Dean reasoned.

 

“That isn’t the point, Dean. “

 

“I suppose not.”

 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called to bother you. I’m sure you’re happy to be home.”

 

Dean looked around his room, the phone pressed to his ear.  This house would always be where he grew up, Dean thought, and John and Sam would always be his family, but right now _home_ felt a hell of a lot more like their little apartment in Ann Arbor.  Home felt like cooking and listening to music while they cleaned up and staying in on weekend nights watching movies.  Home felt like _Cas_.

 

Dean didn’t know what to do with that realization so all he said was, “No, it’s fine.  I’m glad you called.”

 

“I was thinking,” Cas said.  “Maybe we should get a vacuum.  I know Meg and Ruby let us borrow theirs whenever we ask, but we should probably get our own.” 

 

 “That’s a good idea.” Dean agreed.  “We can go shopping for one when we’re both back.”

 

“And how do you feel about a waffle iron?”

 

Dean smiled as he settled back against his headboard. “I currently have no opinion either way, but I’m guessing you do?”

 

 ****

In all their years as friends, they’d only had one real fight. That was senior year.  Well, _Dean’s_ senior year. Cas was on the five-year plan since he’d added a French minor to his English Literature major. 

 

Dean took the MCATs and did well, but when he realized his score put Michigan’s med school out of reach, he became disenchanted with the process and let his applications languish.

 

Cas encouraged him to follow through, growing increasingly frustrated as the due date approached and the applications remained incomplete.  On the day of the deadline, Cas confronted Dean in the kitchen as he made dinner.

 

“This is your future.  You’ve got the grades and the test scores. I don’t understand why you let this drop,” he said, echoing the sentiments he’d been repeating for weeks.

 

Dean shrugged and continued ladling batter into the sizzling waffle iron.

 

Cas flung up his arms in exasperation, blue eyes bright with emotion. “What are you waiting for, Dean?”

 

Dean raised his eyes to look at Cas and saw the disappointment on his face.   Cas had no idea that the thought of leaving overwhelmed Dean to the point of paralysis.  If Cas felt the same way, he wouldn't be asking these questions.    Dean's chest tightened as he realized he was in this alone.

 

Dean yanked the cord of the waffle iron from the outlet and sent the bowl of batter clattering into the sink. “I’m sorry that you don’t get it. But this isn’t your decision to make.”

 

He turned and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

 

Some days Dean felt magnetized, nearly pulled in Cas’s direction, like Cas was his true north.  He was Dean’s anchor, but right now Dean felt like Cas was standing there with a knife ready to cut him loose. 

 

In a daze, he strode up and down streets, not knowing or caring where he was. He walked until the noise coming out of Charley’s caught his attention.  He hadn’t spent time at this bar since probably sophomore year but tonight the boisterous student crowd was exactly what he needed. 

 

Inside, he drank the cheapest beer they had and bought Long Island Iced Teas for the pretty blonde girl who materialized at his side. In a darkened corner of the bar, they made out, fumbling drunkenly for a few minutes that let him forget everything else.  But the fight with Cas came back with a twist to his gut.  Disentangling himself under the guise of getting another round of drinks, he walked out the front door and into the cool night air.  He crossed South U and made his way into the Diag to sit on the stone steps of the graduate library.  He stayed there until he heard the burst of noise at closing time as the crowds streamed out of the bars.  He stood, limbs stiff, and joined the throng, shoving his cold hands in his pockets as he headed home.

 

When he got back to the apartment, Cas was asleep in the living room, sitting up with the TV still on. Dean closed the front door as quietly as he could, but Cas stirred and blinked awake. When Cas reached for the remote to turn off the television, Dean took advantage of the distraction to make for his room.

 

“Dean, wait.” 

 

Dean stopped just outside his bedroom door and slowly turned around.  Cas stood in front of him.

 

“I’m sorry.  You’re right.  It isn’t any of my business.”

 

_It’s entirely your business_ , Dean thought.  _Every part of my decision is wrapped up in you_.  For an absurd instant, he thought of telling Cas everything, but he pushed down that urge and scrubbed a hand over his face. 

 

“It’s okay,” he finally said. “We’re good.” 

 

Cas stared at him for a long moment. “Go brush your teeth.”

 

When Dean came back from the bathroom, Cas had straightened Dean’s rumpled comforter, spreading it neatly over the mattress. Cas continued tidying the room, making neat piles of the books and papers on the desk while Dean stepped out of his jeans and climbed into bed.

 

Dean switched off the lamp and waited for Cas to leave. Instead, Cas sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to Dean.  In the near-darkness, Dean could see the slump of Cas’s shoulders as he dropped his head into his hands. 

 

Dean rolled onto his side, toward Cas. He lifted one hand, letting it hang in the air, unsure.  Then he hooked one finger through a belt loop on the back of Cas’s jeans and fell asleep.

 

When he woke up the next morning, he was alone in his room.

 

****

Committed to being in Ann Arbor for at least another year, Dean found full time research work in a lab on campus.

 

He took whatever it was he felt for Cas and re-worked it until it fit neatly into a box labeled friendship. And he prided himself on the fact that he’d managed to keep things from becoming weird between them.  

 

Unless you counted this past New Year’s Eve.

 

 They’d both shortened their visits home, spending Christmas with their families before escaping back to Michigan soon after.  Most of their friends were still out of town, so they’d stayed in the apartment for a low-key celebration, burning through a couple of bottles of champagne.  

 

When the clock struck midnight, some sort of high five/shoulder clap had gone amiss and they found themselves hugging instead, sagging into each other and giggling. 

 

Dean gripped Cas’s arms to push himself back upright but then he’d stopped and kissed him, just once.  Cas stared at him, his eyes wide with something Dean couldn’t read. Dean worried he’d freaked Cas out, but he could swear Cas clutched his shoulders a little tighter.

 

They hadn’t talked about it afterwards, but Dean became more mindful of himself, taking care to keep space between them when they sprawled on the couch to watch TV at night.  But no matter how Dean kept their shoulders from leaning into each other and their legs from drifting together, Cas seemed oblivious and probably three nights a week fell asleep with his head lolling onto Dean’s shoulder, his hands sometimes lightly gripping the hem of Dean’s t-shirt.

 

It didn’t mean anything, Dean reminded himself, even as he lingered in these quiet, warm moments.  Cas had always been heedless of personal boundaries, always standing too close and staring too long.

 

At first he’d simply nudge Cas with his shoulder to wake him, but lately he found himself ruffling Cas’s hair or putting a hand on his knee to shake him awake.  Once he even rested his cheek on the top of Cas’s head, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. Dean savored these brief moments before putting an end to them.  Then he’d stand and extend a hand to help Cas up, but these days he had to look away while their palms were pressed together. 

 

****

Tonight, Cas mechanically cleans up after dinner before retreating to his room, leaving the brownies untouched. Dean sits by himself and flips through the channels switching to something new each time a commercial comes on.

 

He pushes away thoughts of Cas going, of him packing his things in suitcases and boxes and actually _leaving_ , and replaces them with practical considerations. He’s going to have to find another roommate, he thinks, or move someplace cheaper, and the thought alone exhausts him.

 

He turns in early, falls into an uneasy sleep, and isn’t surprised when he wakes up a few hours later.  The clock says it’s just after 2:30 and the soft light visible under his door says Castiel is awake.  Dean gets out of bed and opens his door.  Cas is standing in the kitchen, digging at the pan of brownies with a fork. He looks at Dean almost guiltily, a glass of milk in his other hand.

 

“We do own plates, you know.” Dean says, but instead of reaching some down from the cabinet, he opens the silverware drawer and takes out a knife. He cuts two big squares, making sure Cas’s has the ragged edge where he’s gone at it with the fork. He pries them out of the pan with the flat side of the knife and hands one to Cas.  They lean against the counter in silence, eating the ridiculously sweet brownies.  Cas passes him the glass of milk and Dean takes a long drink. 

 

 “I saw the letter,” Dean finally says.

 

Cas’s eyes widen in surprise before he nods, almost to himself.

 

“It’s great news.” Dean says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. 

 

Their fingers brush as Cas takes the glass of milk back.  He doesn’t drink, just stares into it.

 

 “It’s what you wanted, right?”  Dean continues, although he’s not sure why he’s been cast in the role of cheerleader. “Michigan sucks. I mean, c’mon. We had eight months of snow this year. North Carolina will feel like paradise.”

 

“What about you?” Cas says abruptly, putting down the glass.

 

“What about me?” Dean asks, genuinely confused.

 

Cas turns to face him.  “After all this time, did you really think you wouldn’t be part of the decision?”

 

Dean feels something flip in his stomach. Cas can’t mean it like that.

 

When Dean doesn’t respond, Cas answers for him. “This is where things went wrong last time.  When you ended up not applying to med school.”  Cas takes a step towards him.  “It’s because we didn’t talk about this.”

 

Dean looks down.  His heart is pounding so loudly he’s sure Cas can hear it.

 

Softly Cas asks, “In a perfect world, what would you have happen?”

 

“Nothing would change,” Dean says, looking Cas in the eye and willing him to hear what he’s too scared to put into words. _We would stay together_.

 

For the first time all evening, Cas smiles.   He reaches to rest a hand on Dean’s hip.  “Not a single thing?” he asks as his fingers find the warm skin under Dean’s t-shirt.

 

“Maybe one thing,” Dean breathes.

 

 Cas takes another step forward and kisses him, still tasting of chocolate. Dean slides his arms around Cas’s waist, pulling him in, desperate for every part of them to touch. The kiss is tantalizingly, dizzyingly charged, but something about it feels solid and unshakable. Built on all these years of trust and friendship, this new connection feels steady and sure, a perfectly obvious next step. With Cas pressed against him, Dean curses himself for wasting so much time.  How many days—and nights—could they have spent like this? 

 

“Whatever happens,” Cas says seriously, when they pull apart to catch their breath, “a one-bedroom apartment is going to save us so much on rent.”

 

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